


The Sleeping Beauties

by rini1031



Category: Original Work
Genre: Fairy Tale Elements, Fairy Tale Retellings, Fairy Tale Style, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-25
Updated: 2018-09-25
Packaged: 2019-07-17 13:35:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16096706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rini1031/pseuds/rini1031
Summary: A Science-Fiction story inspired by Sleeping Beauty





	The Sleeping Beauties

**Author's Note:**

> The twins here are the same twins from A Dance at Midnight. This story takes place thousands of years before and the male twin, their elder brother, and his captain don't really feature in that story at all. If you like the fairytale style and Femslash, please read that one next.

The Sleeping Beauties

* * *

 

 

The halls were nearly silent as Rafael walked them; nearly, because it was almost impossible to not hear a quiet whir or hum anymore from the nearly invisible machines as they did their duties.  The guards glanced over at him from their posts, not daring to move any further in their acknowledgement.  Rafael smiled and nodded to them as he passed their post. 

Up ahead, another set of guards stood, these were different though and wore the silver and gold of the Royal Family; they nodded at Rafael and he returned their greeting.  Finally, Rafael turned the corner and to a third arch and even more Royal Guards.  One of the guards, a man, bowed and greeted Rafael as he approached.  Again, Rafael returned the greeting and twisted his fingers to indicate for the other man to follow him.

The men walked at an excruciatingly normal pace through the maze of hallways and arches and corners, never rushing, always nodding or saluting the guards at their posts.  At first glance, it might have seemed like the men were wandering or exploring rather than moving with purpose, but they had a purpose and a path through the labyrinth that was the Royal Seat.  Halls and corridors, each archway identical, all on purpose to confuse the common visitor, petitioner and all watched by armed guards in sets of two.

After passing though many arches, the men finally came upon a shut door; the door was nearly ten feet tall and closed fast.  Interestingly enough, to an outsider (should one ever make it this far unguided), is that it only has one lone guard – a woman at that.  This woman bowed deeply as Rafael and the other man approached, stepping away from the seam between the doors and out of their way.  With a nod at the woman, Rafael passed her and placed his hands on the doors, one on either side of the seam; either his hands glowed or the door glowed for a second before fading some so that the corridors on the other side could be seen.

When the doors were only a quarter as opaque as previously, Rafael gestured with his head and the man moved past him, though the membrane, and into the new corridors.  Then, with a final nod at the female guard, Rafael moved through the membrane himself.  Without him to hold the doors open, they slowly returned to their solid state behind him.

Hearing his companion chuckle, Rafael turned his head to the man, a questioning look on his face. 

“I’d always heard growing up that the halls leading to the Royal quarters were unguarded,” he said, “forgive me, Consul, but I just thought they were arrogant in their magic, I never dreamed it was due to magical doors.  I never get tired of seeing your magic trick.”

“Yes,” Rafael murmured, “we _are_ overconfident in our magic, but the doors are what dissuade the common gawker and above average thief.  Come, Captain, we still have much to do tonight.”

Rafael moved down the now silent halls.  Here, the worlds and all their problems seemed to stop, save for in Rafael’s head.   Both he and the Captain stepped lighter here, safe from watching eyes and eager ears.  Unlike the rest of the Seat, these corridors were more straightforward and there were doors – smaller versions than the one to get into these rooms – to lead to the family’s personal quarters.  As they passed through the rooms, Rafael placed his hand so that it trailed over the doors; each time, there would be a faint glow and he would glance in, making sure the person inside – if the room was occupied – was well. 

Turning left and then right, the men approached another tall door; Rafael opened it like the first and gestured for the Captain to go first.  Now outside in the private gardens, the men wandered through bold and exotic flowers all the colours of the light spectrum.  At the Blalium Hydrodox, Rafael paused, and the normally solemn man smiled as he took in their perfume and subtly shifting colours.  The Captain turned away to allow the Consul a private moment and looked at the Terran Roses; it couldn’t have been a coincidence that they were so closely put together.  The gardener, an old, trusted servant, knew their preferences and gave them a break in their nightly ritual, a moment where these two men could stop and, quite literally, smell the flowers and relax, if only for that moment.

Their moment over, the men continued on to an overlook where they could see both the sea and the spaceport.  The sea carried creatures from the neighbouring spaceports when theirs was too crowded to hold all those gathered at the Seat.  The overlook was built in a time before space travel, like the Seat itself, but the port and sea were still the only ways into and out of the area.  There were two chairs set and a table and some drink; Rafael motioned the Captain to sit, which he did and poured both men some of the Andulian wine. 

Rafael took his glass, but only made small sips as he listened to the Captain’s report of the day.  Halfway through, Rafael finally gave in an sat down, folding his long body into the waiting chair.  The Captain paused, just long enough to hide his amused smile and let Rafael adjust his crinkly robes to his satisfaction so he would not he chilled.  Every night they did this dance, but exactly when the Consul would give in to the inevitable and sit and drink deeply from his sweet wine differed depending on the day. 

Finally, the Captain ran out of events to report and it was the Consul’s turn; Rafael told the Captain about some of the more humorous requests of the King and Queen – one man had desired a cask of fine wine, another a cat – and some of the worst – power over their neighbour, a kiss. 

“They always ask for a kiss.  I do not understand; it is never granted, so why do they travel Stars know how far to _ask for a kiss_ that they know will not be granted.”

“Perhaps,” the Captain added, very familiar with this dialogue, “they hope _they_ will bear an aura that will make you change your mind.  They are, after all the most important people in their own lives.  Perhaps, Consul, you are the one at fault for not seeing how wonderful these people are.”

As always, this never failed to make both men laugh.  The wine and reports finished, Rafael and the Captain stood, the latter returning the Siliban Crystal to its tray to be sanitized for tomorrow and allowing the former another moment to just be one with the sky and freedom.  At first, the Captain had dallied and Rafael had stopped allowing the moment to be elongated, but over the years they had come to a compromise.  Too soon, the Captain finished and Rafael turned back towards the garden proper.  They began their walk back through the flowers to the Seat; like their first walk, this one was quiet, but the quiet was soothing in its familiarity to them.

Again, Rafael held the doors open for the Captain; rather, however then return to the public area of the Seat, Rafael and the Captain turned down a different path and to another door.  There was an almost tacit agreement in their new direction as they walked side by side to the door.  Unlike the other doors in their path, this one was decorated with engravings of flowers twining around the frame and body.  There were Terran nightshade and roses and morning glories, Barabaran whistlewhits, Thoric ivies, Andulian lovers’ knots and even Rafael’s Blalium hydrodoxes. 

The Captain traced a hand down one of the rose vines.  “I’ve always wondered what colour they’d be.  Odd, right?  But I do.”

“What answer do you come up with?” Raphael asked, hesitating to place his hands upon the door so the Captain could linger on the carvings.

“Red, some nights; gold on others.  I’ve even thought green once.  Did Terrans have green roses?”

“No.  Not naturally anyway.  What shade of green do you see?”

The Captain laughed, “Like the new shade of the linden or willow trees from Terra; not that I’ve even been to Terra, but I can’t help but imagine their colour and the way the wind moves them.”

Rafael said nothing, rather just watched the Captain as he traced the roses on the door.  ‘No, the Captain had not been to Terra,’ he thought, ‘but that does not mean he has not seen the green of those trees.’  And Rafael tried hard to not think of those trees now.  ‘The past is the past.  We must remain here, now.  We must continue our path.’

Finally, Rafael placed his hands on the doors and opened them; he turned his head to the Captain and asked if he would join him tonight.  The Captain started; it was very rare that the Consul did not dismiss him at this point of their nights.  He did not refuse the offered invitation, slipping through the doors and into a large bed chamber. 

The room was large and airy, with fabric draped across the bed and gold-grey walls walls and floor.  The fabric itself was a shimmery blue-grey that faded and changed colours as they moved gently.  The fabric created the illusion of outside within the room and added a gentleness to the Seat’s starkness; the room was empty, and the billows also served to fill some of the space.  The bed itself was one of the three pieces of furniture in the room; only a chaise covered by a knit and table with another Siliban Crystal drinking set joined the bed.  It was clear that the single chair and drink was intended for Rafael for the long hours he spent watching the room other inhabitants. 

 Over the bed, asleep, hovered two bodies; the two were similar in colouring, that and their closeness were enough to tell that they were related.  They were fair, with dark hair; both were dressed in long, flowing garments that trailed onto the bed softly.  The male wore soft gold and the female white; the two seemed both complementary and opposite.  They seemed ageless and yet, oddly ancient, young at the same time.  Their hands were softly pressed together in an embrace.  These were the High King and High Queen, and, looking at them, it was clear to see the resemblance between them and the Lord Consul, their half-brother.  Rafael seemed to crumple into the waiting chaise as he must every night while the Captain stared at the twins resting on the bed. 

“Well, Captain,” Rafael said after several long minutes had passed.  “What do you think of our ‘Sleeping Beauties’?”

The Captain started at the words and turned; Rafael chuckled at the other’s reaction.  Out of fear, he had kept his brother and sister concealed from their people since their sleep began one hundred years before.  These nights were the most tiring for Rafael; he spent all his days in the Seat holding court but his nights were spent here, watching his siblings and waiting.  One day, he knew, they would awaken and he could relax and allow them to re-take their thrones. 

Nor did Rafael begrudge the twins their rest; while they last woke, they had defeated a great and universal evil.  Now they rested, regained their strength for the next darkness they would face.  Born a bastard, Rafael did not have the power his brother and sister bore, but he could wait for them, speak for them until they were needed next.  He kept a lone vigil, as their other half-brothers were scattered, one on Terra and the other, the youngest on Soma. 

Once, they all had lived on Terra, but over the centuries they had emigrated out to the Seat, protecting it and the worlds within its power.  Now, Rafael was alone, waiting.  Only a few were trusted to see the High King and High Queen in this state, unable to defend themselves.  Now, the Captain of the Royal Guard stood next to Rafael’s chair, watching with him.  The Captain was a good man, a trustworthy man – a man who dreamed of Terra.  He would watch with Rafael, perhaps not every night, but he would watch.

There, in that room with the fabric panels and sparse furniture, Rafael and the Captain watched.  The Captain knelt next to the chaise; he and Rafael waited, sometimes they talked, sometimes Rafael sang in a language long since dead.  The Captain also sang, sometimes in Universal, sometimes in a broken language he had heard in his dreams.  Implicitly, both men knew to not talk about the court; there would be talk enough tomorrow night in the garden. 

When the green-gold dawn was about to break, Rafael turned to the Captain.  Unshed tears shone in his eyes at the first night he had not spent alone in several decades.  Rafael’s heart was lightened after this night; he knew, better than any, the power his siblings had.  There had to be a reason the Captain knew Earth’s green trees, their languages.  He knew the twins must have led the man here, and he knew that he had been led here to protect them.  Rafael knew this was a sign that soon they would awaken.  Until then, he would wait, and he would not wait alone.  The twins needed the Captain; they led him here to protect them, so Rafael would invite him here, after the garden, give him a chair and tell him about Earth, about who – what – the twins are and they would wait. 

Darkness will come soon enough, let sleeping beauties dream until then.


End file.
